


Not Alone

by JayTyHeyBye



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), game of thrones
Genre: Multi, Tumblr, Tumblr Prompt, prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-09-02
Packaged: 2018-07-27 05:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 20,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7605040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayTyHeyBye/pseuds/JayTyHeyBye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a giant compilation of all the prompts I get sent on tumblr! Everything from Les Mis and Game of Thrones, all the way over to marvel. Feel free to send me prompts if you want!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Wounded Angel

**Author's Note:**

> The first prompt was for a Nightangel fanfic where one of them is sick. Enjoy!

When the first sneeze came, Warren knew there was no God. He’d known it was flu season, but this was ridiculous. He NEVER got sick. He had always been able to joke around with himself, that maybe he had more than one mutation. Wings, and an “amazing ass immune system”, but apparently that was no longer the case.

Now, one week later, Warren was curled up on the couch of the X-Mansion, wrapped in too many blankets, feeling sorry for himself. He had a small clump of tissues resting beside him, and God only knows how many cough drops he’d had in the last 24 hours. Could cough drops kill you? With Warren’s luck, probably. Just as the blond gave another sneeze, followed by a harsh cough, he caught sight of Kurt Wagner standing in the doorway, eye’s wide and full of worry.

“Varren?”

The only response was a congested, annoyed grunt to show that Kurt had been heard.

“Vhat are you doing on ze couch?”

“bed’s too far.”

Warren could have sworn he heard Kurt grumble. In an instant, the blue mutant was crossing the room, and Warren felt a cool hand come to rest upon his forehead. Fuck, that felt nice. Maybe Kurt just felt nice. He couldn’t help but let out a gentle whine as the hand was moved, and suddenly Kurt was sitting beside him, a hand combing through his hair, which was probably sweaty and disgusting at this point. Kurt didn’t seem to care.

“What’re you doin’?”

“I’m going to take you back to your room.”

“’s too far.”

“You won’t have to walk, Engel.”

Warren closed his eyes for a moment. After a heavy lurch, and after having to push away the feeling of nausea that overwhelmed him, he came to realize that Kurt had teleported them into his bedroom. He blinked up at the younger mutant, who simply smiled down at him and pressed a cool kiss to his forehead.

“I am going to make you some soup, ja? You vill vait here, and rest. Do you understand. Engel?”

All Warren could do in response was nod, the feeling of his bed underneath him too inviting. As sleep began to welcome him with open arms, he heard his bedroom door open.

“Kurt?”

“Ja?”

“Thanks.”

“Alles für dich, mein Liebling.”


	2. Wonderful Children

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles is an elementary school teacher, and Erik is a father that comes to see him during Parent Teacher Interviews.

Charles Xavier considered himself a professional man. Well, as professional as one can possibly be when you’re teaching elementary school children. He’d been doing this for almost a year now, and he had to admit, for someone who never used to like children under the age of 10, he adored his job. His students loved him, and he had finally found a profession that made him want to come to work and try his hardest every morning. The children were always so happy, and sure, some of them cried a lot, or were a little rougher, or didn’t have as much grasp on reading as the other students, they all managed to brighten up his life.

The Lehnsherr twins, however, they were different. Opposite sides of the spectrum. On one hand, we had Wanda. Very neat, clean, sarcastic for her age. Well kept. Knew right from wrong. Charles would have thought she was his own daughter, if he had any children. It was as if he raised her himself.

On the other hand, we had Pietro. Pietro liked to run around. A lot. It made Charles grateful he had working legs, otherwise that child probably would have run to China and back by now. Pietro always seemed to have at least one spot of dirt on him, one tooth missing, and most of the time (all of the time), a bandaid rested upon one of his limbs. Charles would have given ANYTHING to meet the parents of these two. The apple(s) don’t fall too far from the tree, right? Maybe the mother and father were opposite sides of the spectrum, too.

So, when it came time for the parent teacher meetings, Charles was slightly (extremely) excited to hear that Pietro and Wanda’s parents would be attending. He was less excited when little Wanda tugged on his sleeve so he’d kneel down, and in a hushed voice, she told him,

“Don’t ask about mommy in front of daddy. He says she’s in heaven, but he still gets sad.”

Charles gave the girl a gentle smile, and promised her that he wouldn’t bring up her mother.

—–

When the night finally came, Charles was ever so slightly nervous. He knew that all he had to do was sit behind his desk and talk to the parents, something that shouldn’t be hard, but all he could think about was Pietro and Wanda’s father. What would he be like? Rough and tumble like Pietro, or calm and collected like Wanda?

It took nearly an hour of talking to parents before the door to his classroom opened, and in came a man in a black turtleneck. Charles was pretty sure he made an audible gulping noise. He didn’t even need to look at the name on the list to know that this was their father. As the man crossed the classroom, Charles found himself standing up on shaky legs to shake the other’s hand.

“You must be Pietro and Wanda’s father! I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Lehnsherr.”

“Please, call me Erik.”

FUCK. Even his voice was beautiful. No, Charles. No. This was supposed to be a professional interview. Erik had agreed to see him because he wanted to know the progress of his children. His two children, raised only by him. As they took their respective seats, Charles gave Erik a kind smile.

“What can I help you with, Erik?”

“Nothing in particular, Mr. Xavier-”

“-Charles,”

“-Charles, I just wanted to meet the man that my children never stop talking about.”

“Pardon me?”

“Every day when I pick up Pietro and Wanda, all I hear about is their amazing teacher. How nice he is, how he manages to make story-time exciting, and when they’re sick they still beg me to let them go to school.”

It took Charles a minute to find the words to answer. Did Pietro and Wanda think that much of him? All he could do was smile and take a small sip from his water bottle that sat on the desk as Erik continued.

“They also keep suggesting that I marry you so that you can be around them 24/7.”

Charles choked. His body jolted slightly as he began to cough into his hand, trying not to spit out the water in his mouth. After managing to get it down, he forced a shaky smile.

“That’s very sweet. They truly are amazing kids.”

“They really are.”

They sat in silence for a moment, before Erik gave the other man a smile. Charles had a feeling it was rare for Erik to smile, because it seemed to be difficult for him.

They ended up talking about “Pietro and Wanda” for nearly an hour, and by Pietro and Wanda, Charles ended up learning that Erik was a construction worker, he was Jewish, he was born in Poland, and Charles came to realize that Erik Lehnsherr was perfectly imperfect. He only realized the time when an angry mother knocked on his door and asked when it was her turn. Just as Erik got up to leave, he handed Charles a folded up piece of paper, which Charles would later learn had Erik’s cell phone number scribbled on it.

——-

The next day, during recess, two very giggly children ran up to him as he was sitting at his desk. Smiling down at the twins, he turned his chair around so he was facing them.

“How can I help you two?”

The two shared another glance and another giggle, before Pietro, dirty as always, looked up at Charles.

“Does that mean we can call you daddy now, too?”

Charles wasn’t sure how to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoooooooooooooop this is my most popular one!


	3. Raven's Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raven and Azazel fight over their new son. Raven does something she'll never forgive herself for.

“I don’t want this, Raven!”

“No shit, Azazel!”

Raven had lost track of how many times Azazel had yelled that in the last two days. Since he had even found out she was pregnant, he had loudly voiced his opinion about how Raven should have gotten rid of it. Raven had to admit, she wasn’t a big fan about having a baby either, but she hadn’t had the heart to abort it. Now, their blue, tail bearing baby was asleep in the other room. As Raven tried to, somewhat politely, tell Azazel to shut the hell up, all the other mutant did was roll his eyes and throw his hands in the air in exasperation.

“I cannot believe this. What do you expect us to do, Raven? Settle down? Raise a fucking baby! God knows we had a hard enough time growing up, do you really want that? People constantly telling you your son looks like the devil’s been reborn?”

“Like people don’t tell you that! Look at you!”

The pair simply stared at each other for what felt like ages. They had either been arguing with the other, or had been giving the other the silent treatment for the last 11 months. Kurt was 2 months old now, and Raven was at the end of her rope. She didn’t want to change another diaper, have another sleepless night, listen to one more wail from the boy.

Azazel finally shook his head, running a hand over his face.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

“What do you mean you can’t do this anymore?”  
“It’s just that. I can’t settle down with you.”

Raven could only watch him in shock. It took her a moment to find the words.

“That’s it? We have a baby and you walk out? I thought you were better than that, Azazel!”  
The red skinned mutant spun around, anger and hate flashing in his eyes as he looked at her.

“Then do something about it! Get rid of it! Drop it off at some doorstep! Kill it for all I care!”

Raven could tell Azazel regretted the words the moment they left his lips, but she was too angry to care. He wanted the baby dead, he’d get his wish.

“Fine, Azazel. Give me a minute.”

She could hear Azazel yelling her name as she made her way down the hallway, into the nursery, which doubled as their laundry room. She lifted the now awake and smiling infant into her arms, dodging his tiny blue hand as it reached to tug at her hair. Before Azazel could stop her, Raven was storming outside, and the baby in her arms was beginning to whimper. It knew something bad was going on, but it didn’t know it’s death was fast approaching. As she reached the edge of the cliff, Raven heard Azazel screaming out her name, screaming out apologies. It was too late. They couldn’t take care of a baby, and no one in their right mind would take him in. Kurt was fucking blue and he had a tail. He wasn’t normal. Death would be a better option than the life he would have to endure.

She had her arms outstretched over the edge now. She heard a pained scream of NO! from Azazel, as soon as she released her grip on their son and he began to fall. The moment the blanket and the warmth left her hands, Raven felt tears spring to her eyes.

Falling to her knees, she watched her son, her two month old son BAMF away, and Raven let out a sob of relief. Unable to tear her eyes away from where her baby had been moments before, Raven knew this was a decision she would regret for the rest of her life.

——————– 

As Raven walked down the streets of Munich, the rain had soaked her. She had been stupid enough to forget her umbrella back at her hotel, and she found herself without a coat. The street she was currently located on had very little coverage, which meant very little dry space.

After what felt like ages, she caught sight of a dry patch under the front of a sketchy flower shop. Running across the street, she ducked under the tiny roof, shielding herself from the rain. Taking a moment to catch her breath, wring out her hair, and look around, she saw a red and yellow poster with a splash of blue on it from the corner of her eye.

Turning around fully, Raven took in the poster for the Munich Circus, with the picture of the blue boy in the centre, she felt tears spring to her eyes. 

This was it.

This was the moment she’d been waiting for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first sad one eyyyyyyyyyy


	4. Stick Around This Time, Okay?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soulmate McSummers, where one has the first words their soulmate says to them somewhere on their body. Slight Spoiler, when one soulmate dies, the lettering becomes faded and scars over. Cough Cough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is sO SHORT

Hank McCoy could feel the letters on his shoulder beginning to tingle as he made his way down the stairs of the school. The lettering only became…well, not exactly alive, but awake, he supposed, when the soulmate in question was nearby. This soulmate, you see, was Havok. Alex Summers, who’s first official words to him were

“What about bigfoot?”

Those were also the words etched into his skin. He only made it partway down the stairs before he saw him, standing in the centre of the lobby. Could they even call it a lobby? Hank couldn’t stop the smile from stretching across his face, and the fact his pace quickened in order to get to the blond, whom he had been apart from for far too long. Sure, they still sent letters, but it was never the same.

“Alex Summers.”  
“Hank McCoy!”

And then they were hugging. Hank’s fingers dug into Alex’s jacket, and his entire face flushed a familiar shade of red as he felt lips gently press into his temple.

“I missed you, Bozo.”  
All Alex received was a shaky chuckle from Hank, as the pair pulled away. It was only then that Hank noticed the boy standing awkwardly behind Alex, who then cleared his throat.

“Hank, THIS is my little brother, Scott.”

Hank smiled, shaking the boys hand. Maybe, if Scott was here, Alex would stick around longer. God knows how badly Hank wanted Alex to stick around.

——

Hank could not have been more wrong. Alex had a tendency not to stick around, but this takes the cake. As Erik lifted Charles and pulled him over to them through the air, everything seemed to move in slow motion. Alex was suddenly running forward, and Hank was yelling out his name, sprinting after him.

No. No no no. This couldn’t be happening. Not yet. Alex had just come back to him. 

The next thing he knew, there was a blast of red, Alex yelling, and there was an explosion. When he blinked again, his glasses were gone, and he was outside. The mansion was gone, and Peter Maximoff was standing beside him. No. No. Hank spun around, catching no sign of Alex. As his eyes locked on the charred remains of the school, Hank knew Alex was gone. Alex. His Alex. Hank turned away from the group, rolling up part of his sleeve in order to look at his shoulder.

He watched as the words, Alex’s words, began to fade, until they were gone completely. It hadn’t hurt. Hank hadn’t even felt it. All he could feel was the pain in his chest and the stinging in his eyes. Alex Summers was really gone. Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought to keep the tears at bay, until he finally tuned into what Peter was saying to him.

“…looking for the professor. I thought he lived here.”

“They took him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sorry


	5. Adapt to Survive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked for Havok x Darwin sooooo here we are

Something about Darwin was different than the rest of the team Charles and Erik had assembled. Alex couldn’t help but notice the overwhelming confidence that radiated off the boy, the way he smiled, the way he spoke with such ease. He wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. To give his two cents. Alex loved that.

Darwin was able to adapt to survive. This was another thing that Alex loved about the boy. He was amazing. He talked to him like Alex was a real person, and not some freak who could explode at any moment.

They had all been given nicknames at that point. Darwin was, well, Darwin. Alex had been given the name Havok, which he liked more than he let on. Darwin seemed to like it too, because as soon as he heard the name, Alex noticed how wide the boy’s smile was. Alex liked that smile. He never wanted that smile to go away. He never wanted Darwin to go away.

Currently, they were all on the couch. Raven was trying not to pout, having been partially told off by Charles for goofing around. Alex was seated beside Darwin, and they were a little closer than they probably should have been. Alex kind of liked it.

It was Darwin who broke the silence.

“Where’d they find you?”

“A cell. You?”

“Taxi.”

Alex began to smile again. Darwin had been a taxi driver? He couldn’t imagine that.

“Your power is cool, y’know.”

Alex snapped out of his trance to realize Darwin was speaking to him.

“You think so?”

“Yeah, man! It rocks! You can blow shit up!”

“Yeah, well, most people don’t think it’s cool.”

“I do.”

The two shared a glance, and a small smile.

“Usually it makes it hard for me to stick around. People get hurt.”

Darwin grinned, sitting up and leaning forward, in towards Alex.

“I’ll tell you what, Summers. If you stick around, I’ll stick around.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Despite Darwin’s promise being broken only an hour or so later, Alex Summers kept his part of the deal. 

He stuck around, even if Darwin wouldn’t be there to stick around with him.


	6. For Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McSummers High School au, to the song For Him by Troye Sivan.

“We are runnin’ so fast

And we never look back

And whatever I lack, you make up”

\---

This honestly didn’t make sense. From the grades he’d seen, Alex Summers didn’t need a science tutor. Not that Hank minded tutoring him, he just had no idea that Alex needed the help. Alex wasn’t exactly what Hank would call overly confident, but he wouldn’t call him a complete introvert either. Alex Summers was…well, he was different. Hank saw how much interest Alex took whenever professor Xavier would bring up the mutant gene, and he saw how defeated Alex looked whenever professor Xavier would casually remind the class that mutants are seen as some sort of monstrosity. Maybe Alex was like him?

Hank tore his gaze away from where Alex sat in the corner of the room to glance down at his watch. Ah, yes. The watch that kept him from turning into a blue, fuzzy teddy bear. If Professor Xavier hadn’t given him this in his freshman year, Hank probably would have been homeschooled again by now. He didn’t need that again. Did professor Xavier know about Alex? Was Alex even like them? God, probably not. Hank was probably looking into this too much. All Alex needed was a chemistry teacher. Not some kid to prod him with questions about whether or not he was a mutant.

As the bell rang, Hank gathered his things and pushed himself to his feet. He got halfway to the door before he felt a cold, clammy hand grab his wrist, and he found himself stopping dead in his tracks.

“Can I talk to you for a second?”

\---

“We make a really good team

Though not everyone sees

We got this crazy chemistry

Between us”

\---

That night, Hank found himself sitting in Alex’s bedroom. He honestly never thought he would get this far. Alex was currently downstairs, talking to his mother about why he had some strange, lanky boy in his room, which meant that Hank had a minute to decompress. As much as he wished he could relax, he couldn’t. He wasn’t able to stop his legs as he stood, pacing back and forth around the room, looking at all the posters and the pictures. Was Alex into poetry? There were Alan Ginsberg quotes EVERYWHERE.

Hank smiled to himself, reaching up to drag his hand across a picture of Alex and a boy, much younger than him, wearing red sunglasses. That must be his brother, Scott. Scott was a freshman this year, and he’d seen the boy tagging around with Alex during their lunch break. Holding the frame in his hands, Hank let out a quiet sigh. Sometimes he wished he had siblings. It would make everything a lot less lo-

“Whatcha doing?”

Hank let out the most high pitched noise he could possibly make. As he fumbled to put the picture down, he caught sight of Alex standing in the doorway. He had his hands in his pockets and a shit eating grin on his face. How long had he been standing there?

“I was just – I wasn’t – I’m sorry –“ Hank began to stutter, his face flushing as Alex finally began to laugh, waving his hand.

“I guess I can forgive you.” He teased, shutting his bedroom door behind him. They sat in silence for a moment, before Hank cleared his throat.

“So…what exactly…what exactly did you want to go over?”

“Oh, c’mon McCoy. You’re a smart guy.”

“I’m…I’m not following.”

“We both know I don’t need a tutor.”

“Oh.”

\---

“Jump starting your car ‘cause this city’s a bore

Buying e-cigarettes at the convenience store

Making new clichés on our own little tour

Let’s ride”

\---

The next thing he knew, Alex was crossing the room and standing directly in front of him. He could practically feel his breath on his lips, and Hank could only stammer as he tried to come up with a solid response. The best he could come up with wasn’t exactly what he wanted to say, but it would work.

“Why…why me?”

“I talked to Xavier.”

“About me?”

“No, about clouds. Of course about you. You’re special, right?”

Shit.

“What…what do you mean by special?”

“You’re a mutant.”  
Shit.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Relax, McCoy, i’m not-”

“My name is Hank.”

“Fine. Hank, I’m not gonna tell anyone. I just needed an excuse to talk to you.”

SHIT.

“Well…I’m here…what do you want to talk about?”

“When I say talk, I don’t mean talk.”

Hank didn’t have time to response as Alex pressed their lips together, his hands coming to rest on Hank’s waist.

\---

“You don’t have to say I love you to say I love you

Forget all the shooting stars and all the silver moons

We’ve been making shades of purple out of red and blue

Sickeningly sweet like honey, don’t need money

All I need is you

All I need is you, you”

\---

Hank sort of lost track of time after that. He’d been so distracted, that when they finally finished ‘studying’, he had 7 missed calls from his mom, and it was a little past midnight. When he got home, he was all giddy. He could barely tell his mother his very formulated lie, stating that he and Alex had studied and nothing more. Luckily, she had believed him. Thank god she did. Hank didn’t feel like telling her about how he just made out with Alex Summers for 3 ½ hours.

As he reached his room, he fell down heavily on his bed, still smiling like an idiot. Alex liked him back. Alex Summers, who is way out of his league for it to be healthy, kissed him first. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressing his palm to his mouth to keep himself from laughing aloud. If this was only their first “study session”, Hank couldn’t wait to see what was going to be coming next.

He only opened his eyes again when he felt his cell phone buzzing in his pocket. Turning it on, a soft pink tinge covered his cheeks, reading Alex’s text message.

-We have our test on Thursday. Next session Wednesday night?-

-Would’t miss it for the world.-

\---

“We try staying up late

But we both are light weights

Yeah we get off our face, too easy

And we take jokes way too far

‘Cause sometimes living’s too hard

We’re like two halves of one heart

We are, we are, we are”

\---

Three weeks later, they were having “study sessions” every other day. Hank couldn’t be happier, honestly. Alex seemed a lot happier, too. He was smiling more and more, and Hank couldn’t help but notice how he seemed to be more social with other students in their grade. Overall, Hank was just hap-

Hank was snapped out of his trance when he felt two hands slam into his shoulders, knocking his books from his hands as his body collided roughly with the locker to his left. His glasses fell off his face as he fell to his hands and knees, and after catching his breath for a moment, he heard a crunch, and he felt his entire body tense up. Shit. A foot slammed into his ribcage and he let out a gasp of pain. God, that hurt. Why was no one helping? That was a stupid question. No one ever helped.

Hank was preparing for another kick, his eyes squeezed shut. He prepared for the kick that never came, though. He soon heard a familiar voice yelling, and he heard a fist collide with skin. After what felt like ages, two arms wrapped around him and carefully pulled him to his feet.

Hank could see a blurry outline of Alex Summers, picking up Hank’s books and his broken glasses for him.

“You saved me.”

“I wouldn’t call it saving, McCoy.”

“My knight in shining armor. My hero.”

“A hero is someone who has given his or her life to something bigger than oneself.”

“That is stupidly poetic.”

“You know you love it.”

“I do.”

\---

“You don’t have to say I love you to say I love you

Forget all the shooting stars and all the silver moons

We’ve been making shades of purple out of red and blue

Sickeningly sweet like honey, don’t need money

All I need is you

All I need is you, you”

\---

Six months passed. They held hands down the hallway. They spent almost every night together. Nothing else had formed. Hank silently pleaded something else would form, but he never pushed Alex.

They currently lay on Alex’s bed, listening to some artist Hank didn’t know, but he could have sworn they were just grossly sobbing into the microphone as they ‘sang’.

“Hank?”

“Alex.”

“Be my boyfriend?”

“Of course.”

It was a lot more anti-climatic than Hank was expecting, but he loved it nonetheless.

\---

“Eat a pill stay and chill, you don’t need to go

I’m about to bring emo back if you leave my home

I’d panic at the disco and you’d rather watch a TV show

Then I’ll squeeze your booty real hard like I’m kneading dough

Pizza boy, I’m speeding for ya

We can get married tonight if you really wanna

Me in a cheap suit like a sleazy lawyer

And if you break this lil’ heart, it’d be an honour”

\---

They’d known each other for 7 months now. Officially dating for one. Prom and graduation was coming up fast, and Hank was terrified of what would happen after graduation. Would Alex leave? Would they grow apart? Hank couldn’t even dream of going on without Alex at this point. Sure, some could say he was being a little clingy and a little possessive, but when you love someone as much as Hank loved Alex…shit. Hank loved Alex.

They were curled up in the back of Alex’s truck, listening to that same shitty artist that Alex liked. Hank had stopped caring as much. She wasn’t actually that bad. Alex had an arm around Hank’s shoulders, and Hank had his head resting on Alex’s chest. They fit perfectly.

Hank never wanted this moment to end. He needed it to be special.

“Alex?”

“That’s me.”

“I love you.”

Hank could have sworn he felt a part of him die when Alex didn’t answer, and suggested he drive Hank home.

\---

“You don’t have to say I love you to say I love you

Forget all the shooting stars and all the silver moons

We’ve been making shades of purple out of red and blue”

\---

Hank may or may not have brought a flask to prom. How he even snuck it in was beyond him, but he was in too deep to back out now. The flask was half empty, and Hank was there alone. Alex had barely acknowledged his existence since Hank had told Alex he loved him. He didn’t care anymore. Alex had brought some girl to prom. Ororo? Oreo? Hank really didn’t give less of a shit about her name. His boyfriend refused to even look at him in class anymore.

All Hank could do was sink further into his chair and take a long swig from the flask.

The night went on somewhat uneventfully. Hank sat alone, watching Alex from across the gymnasium. The other boy looked happy. Fuck. Hank hung his head as he felt tears spring to his eyes. Quickly, he stood from his chair and made his way too the front door. He just wanted to go home at this point. Alex didn’t love him, and Hank was an idiot to think that he did.

He was in the middle of pushing open the door when he felt a clammy hand grab his wrist, and he could feel said hand trembling against his skin.

“You’re not leaving before we dance, are you?”

“I assumed you didn’t want to dance.”

“If it’s with you, I’d dance until my feet fell off.”

Hank let out a small huff. Hesitantly, he turned around, following Alex to the centre of the gymnasium floor. This probably wouldn’t end well.

He felt Alex’s hands rest on his waist, and Hank let his arms wrap around Alex’s neck. This was a position he could get used to, honestly.

Hank closed his eyes, softly swaying back and forth in Alex’s arms. Maybe they could figure this out.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, Alex.”

“I’m always sorry, Hank.”

“What are you sorry about?”

“Treating you like a piece of shit all the time. All I do is wreak havoc”

“You don’t treat me like a piece of shit. Just…a moldy piece of bread at best. It’s alright if you wreak havoc. Some people think I’m a beast. We make a perfect pair.”

Hank heard Alex chuckle gently.

“Now who’s the poetic one?”

“You’re wearing off on me.”

\---

“Sickeningly sweet like honey, don’t need money

All I need is you”

\---

“Hank?”

“Yes Alex?”

“I love you, my Beast.”

“I love you too, my Havoc.”

\---

“All I need is you, you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one may or may not be my favourite


	7. Straight Lines

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aka the one where Scott is straight as shit and Peter has a thing for him.

Shit. Fuck. Fucking shit. This is now how Scott imagined his day would be going. He’d been with Jean, Peter, and Ororo outside by the gardens, snuggling up real nice and close with Jean, talking about whatever, and suddenly Peter was gone. The older mutant had been acting all weird and irritated all day, but Scott had never really thought anything of it. Peter just…got in a funk sometimes! He would always snap out of it! Jean, however, suggested Scott be the one to go and see what was bugging the speedster. Clearly, she already knew what was going on with him. Would she tell Scott though? Of course not. That would be too easy. All she had told him was that Peter had probably run off to the lounge to speak with Kurt, as Nightcrawler had stayed behind in order to have some alone time. Clearly not a lot of alone time if he was now with a grumpy Peter. As Scott stood to leave, Jean grabbed his hand to momentarily stop him.

“Don’t hurt him, Scott.” All Scott had done in response is smirk down at her. He hadn’t realized how difficult this was about to get.

As Scott approached the lounge, he noticed the door was cracked open ever so slightly, and he could hear Peter’s voice through said crack. He stopped in his tracks and listened, hanging his head slightly, as if that would get him more access.

“It’s bullshit, Kurt!”

“Why do you not tell him?”

“I can’t!”

“Vhy not? He is as human as you, Peter.”

“He’s got his little girlfriend who’s been in my damn head this entire time!”

Was Peter talking shit about Jean? Scott grimaced slightly, reaching for the handle to go in there and say something, but the next statement had him freezing up.

“I am sure she already knows, Peter. Jean is a very understanding voman.”

“Oh, of course, Kurt. I can just go over to Scott as he’s canoodling with Jean, his GIRLFRIEND from the HETEROSEXUAL relationship they’re in, and shout my love for him to the stars! You give such great advice!”

“Peter, you asked for my honest opinion. Zis is it. If you vant to stop hiding, you must tell him how you feel. Vhat are you vorried about?”

Scott could hear Peter groan and flop down in the armchair across from the couch.

“I’m worried Scott will hate me.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. So, Peter was in love with him. Peter was gay. When the hell did Peter realize he was gay? This was new information. After a solid 30 seconds of debating with himself, Scott pushed open the door and cleared his throat. He saw Peter lift his head, silver hair falling in front of the eyes that quickly widened. He saw Peter’s mouth open as he began to stutter, and Scott took a deep breath. Now or never.

“I don’t hate you, man.”

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough.”

Peter seemed to stammer for a moment as he tried to formulate a response. Kurt slowly stood up from his spot on the couch, and Scott guessed he’d sensed that Scott wanted to talk to Peter alone.

“I vill leave you two.”

There was a gentle BAMF and Kurt was gone, leaving the two mutants alone. Scott took the opportunity to come and sit beside Peter, leaning his elbows on his knees.

“When did you plan on telling me you were gay?”

“I wasn’t.”

“I thought we were closer than that.”

They fell silent again for what felt like an eternity, before Peter drew in a shaky breath.

“You seemed happy with Jean. I didn’t wanna ruin that.”

“I am happy with Jean.”

“Exactly. Besides, you’re straighter than a line.”

Scott couldn’t help but laugh slightly. Peter gave a small smile, but no laughter escaped from his lips. Scott felt the urge to reach over and hug the guy, but that probably wouldn’t help their situation. Peter was right. He was happy with Jean, more or less. He still wanted Peter to be happy, though. He deserved that. After a few minutes, Peter stood up.

“I’m sorry, Pete.”

“Don’t be.”

“I am.”

Despite his apology, Peter got to the door. Scott had to say something to make him stay. He wanted him to stay. Scott quickly rose to his feet, running a hand through his hair.

“You’re wrong, y’know.”

Peter stopped in his tracks, and glanced back at the younger mutant.

“Wrong about what?”

“Some lines aren’t always straight…some have a tendency to be curved.”

“Come and give me a call if yours ever curves, Scottie.”

Scott couldn’t help but notice the small smile tugging at Peter’s lips, before he turned on heel and disappeared through the doorway, leaving Scott alone.


	8. An Angel Needs His Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt is a tattoo artist and Warren is a florist. Enough said.

f you had told Warren Worthington a year ago that he’d be running a flower shop, he probably laughed in your face and told you that you’d gone crazy. However, you are as far from crazy as you can possibly be. You were entirely correct.

As much as he totally wanted to, Warren was now leaning back in a swivel chair behind the counter, surrounded by brightly colored flowers, pollen, and most of the time, old women chattering to themselves about how these roses would look so fancy next to their husbands urn, which for most women apparently, sat on their mantle in their living rooms. Well, he didn’t exactly mind when that gay couple would come in, probably in their 30′s. One would push the other in his wheelchair, and the one in the wheelchair would always pick out the flowers. The one pushing him along clearly just wanted to go home. 

“No, Erik, the red ones will look better.”

“Charles, Raven isn’t going to care what colour flowers we have on the table.”

It got to the point where Warren would literally be doing anything else but this. Now, though, he’d worked at Angel’s Flower Emporium for a little over a year, and he’d stopped caring. It payed the rent and put food on the table, so he couldn’t fully complain. Another thing he couldn’t complain about is how at least twice a week, the owner of the store down the block would come in and spend a solid half an hour looking for flowers to put around the shop. The man had a beautifully thick German accent, blue streaks in his black hair, small tattoo’s scattered over his jawline as well as his forehead, and the way he smiled directly at Warren always made his heart flutter, much to his discomfort. Well, it wasn’t exactly discomfort. This guy was the only customer that Warren would actually try to help. It pissed off all the old women in the store, but Warren could give a rats ass about helping them. They weren’t the ones he would wait for all week.

It was a regular Tuesday in the store, and Warren was a little less than esthetic. The boy, who’s name he hadn’t actually taken the time to learn yet, always came in Tuesday afternoon’s and Saturday morning’s. Sometimes on Thursday’s if he “forgot to put ze flowers in ze water and they just happened to die” which Warren didn’t mind at all. He wished the flowers would die quicker so the other would have more and more reason to come to the shop.

His foot was tapping impatiently underneath the counter as he was flipping through the pages of some old magazine he’d read 43 times. When Warren heard the ding of the bell on the door signalling it’s opening, he practically launched himself out of his seat to see the beautiful man walking into the shop, smiling that too perfect smile at him.

“Ze flowers I bought on Saturday have fallen already.” The man said as he approached the counter.

Warren smirked in response, straightening up to try and seem more relaxed than he actually was. He didn’t need this guy knowing he’d had the hots for him for the last two months.

“Maybe, just maybe, if you put them in water they would live longer, so you don’t have to keep coming back and spending more of your money.”

Why had he said that? He loved it when this guy visited. God, he was going to think Warren didn’t want him there.

“New flowers brighten up ze room. Ze customers like them,” He hummed, craning his neck to look around the room, “Could you show me ze roses again?”

“I can most definitely show you ‘ze roses’.” Warren said in a mock German accent, jumping over the counter, which earned a gasp of surprise from the other man. A cute gasp, though. Warren would give him that.

As Warren led the other over to their small selection of roses, he crossed his arms over his chest.

“What color are you looking for?”

“Do you have any blue roses?”

“Sorry to break it to you, but I don’t think blue roses even exist.”

This time, Warren got a disappointed huff in response.

“Do you have any vite?”

“You can bet your ass we have white roses. How many would you like?”

“Ze usual amount, please.”

Warren gave a small grunt as a response, grabbing a dozen white roses in order to cut and wrap them up for him. As he went behind the counter again, the man followed him, standing in front of it patiently. They stood in a comfortable silence whilst Warren worked, but the man in front of him was too quiet for Warren’s liking.

“Where’d you get the ones on your face done?’

“I did zem myself!”

“Shit, really? Where’d you get the equipment?”

The man smiled, rocking back and forth slightly on his heels.

“I am ze owner of Ze Nightcrawler Tattoo Parlor down ze block. I bought it myself.” He said with confidence, causing Warren’s eyes to widen. This guy owned the tattoo parlor? Shit. He’d seen some of the stuff that had come out of that tattoo parlor, and Warren had been saving up extra funds to go over there and get something done himself. God. This guy got better every second. Play it cool, Warren. He had a reputation to maintain.

“How much for something across a back?”

Warren saw the other begin to smile, ducking his head slightly.

“Is it your back?”

“It may be.”

“Vat vould you like on your back?”

“Angel wings. Match the ones on the sign out front. Would you be able to do those?”

“Ja.”

“How much?”

“Considering how often I come in here to buy your flowers…Null.”

“Null?” Warren’s brow furred as he handed the flowers to the other, and the man gave him the exact change in response, as per usual, which Warren appreciated. It made his job easier. He watched as the other began to walk backwards towards the door, grinning.

“It means zero. No charge.” The other called out to him, grinning as Warren’s eyes widened in shock.

“Are you serious?”

“Na sicher!”

“Na sicher?”

“Of course!”

Warren couldn’t help but smile, watching the other opening the door.

“Why? I don’t even know your name!”

“I am Kurt Wagner, and every Engel needs his vings.”


	9. Pretty Sure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silvercyclops soulmate au!

“I’m pretty sure I got everybody”

Scott had no idea why, but he never wanted to hear those words. Although they were the first words his soulmate was ever supposed to say to him, there was a negative weight about it. Something always seemed…off.

When he had pulled the car up into the – well, what used to be – driveway of the X-Mansion, and failed to see the X-Mansion, he knew what the words meant before his soulmate had even uttered them to him. When he’d practically launched himself over the hood of his car to get to the small group of students, his eyes darting around wildly underneath his visor, he caught sight of Peter Maximoff, aka Quicksilver. He had to admit, he was surprised to hear those words come out of his mouth. Although he gained a soulmate, he had lost his brother. For a long time, Scott didn’t know what he wanted more. His soulmate, or his big brother. Despite what he would end up picking, fate didn’t give him much of a choice in the matter.

Now, the mansion had been repaired, Peter had moved in (on his own free will, surprisingly), and Scott was adjusting to his new life without Alex. He had friends around, such as Kurt, Jean, and Ororo, whom he didn’t expect to become friends with, especially since she had tried on multiple accounts to kill him, but you make do. As much as he was enjoying his new life, he missed Alex. Alex had always been there to ground him, to make sure that he was happy. He would always put Alex before himself, and yet, he was gone. He had been “closest to the blast."

He had noticed someone try and fill in for Alex, though. He had quickly learned, about a month ago, that Peter had Scott’s first words to him scattered messily across his upper back, from shoulder to shoulder.

“What happened? Where’s Alex? Where’s my brother?”

Scott remembered Peter’s frown, the way his eyes seemed to cloud with guilt as he apologized for the 30th time, apologized for not being fast enough. Scott had simply smiled at him and squeezed his shoulder, trying to reassure him that he didn’t blame him.

Now here they were, curled up on opposite ends of the couch together on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Almost everyone was outside, enjoying the sun and the warm weather, but Scott had never been one to willingly go outdoors, and Peter seemed to be an indoors kind of guy anyway. Scott was honestly just using that as an excuse to spend more alone time with Peter. Between younger students and friends, he had barely gotten to spend any alone time with the man…and yet here, during their alone time, they sat as far away from each other as possibly could be, seeming to ignore one another.

Eventually, after flipping aimlessly through the channels, Peter glanced over to Scott.

“I don’t bite, y’know. Not unless you’re into that.”

Scott snorted slightly, fighting back a laugh. After a minute of hesitation, he adjusted his position and scooted himself closer to the speedster, settling down beside him. Peter cleared his throat, starting to yawn and raise up his arms. Scott raised an eyebrow, turning his head to make (sort of) eye contact with the other.

“If you’re going to do the fake yawn thing, don’t. Just put your arm around me.”

At Peter’s small smile in return, Scott felt the butterflies in his stomach start up. In an instant, a warm arm was around him, and the younger one was leaning into the older one’s side. It was nice. It was a nice feeling. Honestly, Scott wasn’t sure he ever wanted it to end.

Peter continued to flip through the channels, until he let out an annoyed huff and dropped the remote onto his lap.

“Scottie?”

“That’s a new one.”

“I’m sorry.”

Scott lifted his head to look up at Peter, giving him a frown.

“I don’t blame you, Peter.”  
“You should. If I had only moved a little faster…If I hadn’t stopped…”  
Scott cut him off, reaching up to mush together his cheeks. Peter looked momentarily confused, but seemed to stop talking.

“I don’t blame you. Alex was just…he wanted to be the hero. He liked that sort of thing, Y’know? that’s not your fault.”

“I just-”

“No. No just. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you, and wherever he is, Alex doesn’t blame you.”

Scott turned back to look at the television, though he could have sworn he saw a small smile tug at the corner of Peter’s lip. As Peter picked up the remote again, flipping to American Idol, Scott leaned up and pressed a quick kiss to an already warm cheek.

Although Alex wasn’t here anymore, Scott knew Alex would die a hundred times if it meant Scott could have met Peter, and though that wasn’t a lot, it was enough for a smile to force its way onto Scott’s face.

“You alright, Cyclops?”

“Don’t call me that, Petey.”


	10. Just A Dream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I GOT ASKED FOR CHERIK ANGST HERE WE GO

“No one will take you away, will they, Papa?”

“Of course not, darling.”

The moment seemed to swirl around him, and in the time Erik Lehnsherr had to blink, he came to quickly realize he was standing in the forest, behind his home. The air around him was brisk, cold enough that he could see his breath, but not enough to make him shiver. The trees seemed to cast an ominous shadow over the group that had formed for the encounter. When Erik was steady enough to take in his surroundings, his ears finally picked up the yelling, a mixture of Nina, his wife, and the officers. No. Please, no. He couldn’t live this again.

Before Erik had time to protest, the arrow had been launched, and he heard that all too familiar loud gasp. He was too late. He was always too late.

Like usual, Erik ran forward, gathering his entire world into his arms, pleading with them to open their eyes. If they were to open their eyes, they could go back inside. Everything would be fine. They could carry on with their lives.

The only problem was that it would never be fine again. They were dead. He was cradling his world, shattered, bloody, and broken in his arms. He should have been used to this. He should expect that he would one day lose the ones he held dear, but every time, it felt like a someone had reached into his chest and torn out his heart with their bare hands. It always came as a surprise, even if Erik knew he should expect it. Nothing ever goes right for people like him.

As the policemen fell to the ground, Erik screamed up to the sky, to the God he wasn’t sure existed anymore. Why would a God, that he had believed in all his life, have let this happen time and time again? As he yelled, Erik heard something he did not usually hear. Something that broke the usual pattern of the dream.

He heard a response.

“You are more than this, old friend."

He looked around the forest to see Charles Xavier standing in the middle of all the corpses, of all the people he once knew. Charles gave the man a sad smile, his eyes never breaking contact with Erik’s. Erik simply stared, taking in Xavier’s stance. He seemed calm, yet sad. He seemed to have his hair whenever he entered a mind, Erik noticed. He had heard Jean say that once or twice. That he is always walking, and he has his hair. Like how he used to be, when they had met all those years ago.

Charles took a few steps forward, approaching until he was kneeling beside Erik. The telepath placed a gentle hand on his back, before looking down at the two in Erik’s arms.

“It is just a dream, Erik.”

“It is real.”

“It was, real. In the past. As of now, you are at the mansion, with me. You are asleep in your bed, and I am sitting beside you. You are perfectly fine.”

Erik squeezed his eyes shut, hanging his head to avoid Charles’ gaze. There was something about the way he spoke, something that stirred up old feelings Erik wasn’t sure he wanted to revisit. He had loved Charles Xavier, he had loved him with all his heart. He had loved him when he left the beach, he had loved him when the elevator opened and he saw Charles standing there, soaking wet, in all of his glory. After the baseball stadium, Erik had given up. He had repressed the feelings as much as humanly possible. He had settled down. Gotten married. Had a baby girl. Nina. His baby girl. Now, he and Charles momentarily fought for the same team. As much as Erik loved being around the telepath again, it was hard. It was too soon to love again, and even if he did, God knows Charles would probably get killed or injured even further because of him.

He was startled slightly when he felt an arm wrap carefully around his shoulders, and he felt a hand press lightly on his forehead. Absentmindedly, Erik leaned into the touch. Charles was the only warm thing in the forest. Charles had always been warm. He felt his old friend squeeze his shoulder, then take a deep breath.

“I am going to wake you up, alright, Erik? I will be right there when you awake.”

All Erik could do was nod in response, letting the tears fall down his cheeks.

~~~

As he opened his eyes, which were filled with real tears, Erik took a moment to take in his surroundings. Charles had been right, he was in his bed, in his room, in the Mansion. Charles’ mansion. Ah, right. He had helped repair the thing, after all. After blinking the tears away, he came to realize that there was a hand clasped in his own. He followed the length of the arm with his eyes, and found it attached to Charles Xavier himself. Still bald, still in a wheelchair, and still in his clothes from that day. Erik was beginning to wonder if Charles Xavier ever even slept.

“Charles?”

“See? Only a dream. You are safe, Erik.”

Erik pushed himself into a sitting position, glancing at the alarm clock on the bedside table. 4:03am.

“How long have you been sitting there?”

“You started to protect your thoughts about an hour ago. I’ve been trying to get into your head since 3:15.” Charles smiled sadly, and Erik swallowed the lump forming in his throat.

“I’m sorry.”

“Never apologize for something you cannot control Erik. Do me a favor?”

“Mm?”

“Try and get some rest. It will do you good.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You can, and when you awake, I will be right here beside you.”

Again, Charles was right. Erik slept the rest of the night without any other nightmares, and when he awoke, he saw Charles still sitting beside his bed. Charles was asleep, his head lulled forward, but Erik couldn’t help the small smile that appeared on his face when he looked down, and saw Charles’ hand, still locked protectively onto his own.


	11. Peter's Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter likes to play his music reaaaal loud at 3am. Scott has had enough.

Peter only did it because he knew it annoyed the shit out of Scott. He was lucky enough to have gotten a room right across the hallway from the boy, and Peter was abusing the power he had.

He had overheard Scott say once, to Jean probably, that he hated boybands. Lucky for Peter, his boombox was loud. Well, it wasn’t lucky for Scott. Peter just found it hilarious. It had been a little over a year since he had moved in, and Peter had found many ways to piss off Scott. Honestly, it had become his hobby.

His main passion was to blast the same New Kids On The Block record over and over again at 3am. It drove Scott up the fucking wall and it only fueled the fire.

Scott, on the other hand, had tried to retaliate. He had blasted Beatles song’s on repeat at 6am. Peter, in response, had stood outside of Scott’s door and sung along, as loud and as pitchy as he possibly could. After only ten minutes, Peter heard a loud groan, and the music turned off.

It was 3am, and Peter was sprawled out on his bed as per usual. He must have let the music go as he slept, because when he’d turned it on, it had been 10pm. 5 hours of the same track, over and over. God, Scott must be livid.

Due to the loud, aggressive tapping on his door, Peter knew Scott probably was as angry as he thought he’d be. In the blink of an eye he was at the door, not yet opening it. In a sing-song voice, he called out to him,

“Who’s there?”

“Open the fucking door, you asshole!”

“Tut tut, such language! Besides, I didn’t hear the magic word!”

“You wouldn’t hear it anyway over all that bullshit you’re spewing out of your speakers!”

“What do you want me to do about it, hm? I am quite content keeping it on!”

“Peter Maximoff. I am standing out here, right now, holding your silver jacket and a butcher knife.”

Shit. Peter’s smile faded.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. If you don’t turn that must off right now, I will not hesitate to make as many rips and tears in it as I possibly can.”

The music was off before Scott could even finish his sentence, and in the time it took the teenager to blink an eye, the door had opened, the jacket in his hand had been replaced with a boombox, and Peter’s door was closed again.

Peter never played his music loud enough to annoy Scott again after that.


	12. I Think So

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THE LES MIS ONE AH  
> College students, Courf is a Vine Star and Marius is his roommate

Marius’s first day at University was NOT what he had been expecting. He expected everything to go swimmingly! No hiccoughs. Eponine, an old friend, had given him a tour around campus, and now she was standing outside his dorm room with him, a smile on her face.

“You’re sure you’ll be alright on your own?”

“I’m 22, ‘Ponine. I think I can handle unpacking by myself.”

“Oh, no, I know you can handle that. I just know that…well, Grantaire said to warn you that your roommate can come on a little strong sometimes.”

“Grantaire?”

“Drinking buddy of mine. I swear, you’ll meet him later. Just be careful of Courfeyrac, alright? Don’t get too intimidated!”

Before Marius had a chance to ask another question, Eponine had turned on heel and was walking away from him, down the hallway to the elevator.

Come on a little strong? What had she meant?

Shaking the thought from his head, he grabbed ahold of the handle on his suitcase and pushed open the door to his dorm. The last thing he expected was this man with curly hair to launch himself off the bed in the corner of the room, shove an Iphone in his face, and yell:

“DO IT FOR THE VINE!”

As loud as he possibly could at Marius.

Before his new companion had even finished yelling, Marius had screamed, and out of instinct, slapped him across the face.

The cell phone fell to the ground just as the man staggered back slightly, cursing under his breath.

“Jesus, mate. You’ve got quite a swing on ya!” Marius could have sworn he heard the giant mess of curls giggling. Did this guy even have a face under all of them?

As the man stood up and brushed the curls out of his eyes, Marius found himself blushing. This was his roommate? Shit. Studying was going to be hard with this guy as a constant distraction. This guy was gorgeous.

When Marius snapped himself out of his trance, he noticed that the man was extending his hand in Marius’ direction. Marius’ hand shot out and locked with the other, shaking a little more aggressively than he’d intended to.

“What’s your name, Newbie? Marcus, right?”

“Marius.”

“Ah, fuck. I was close! Marius! Eponine told me you’d be coming by today!”

“Yeah…she had said you often come on a little strong.”

This seemed to amuse the other, because he let out a snort of laughter.

“Strong is one way to put it. I’m Courfeyrac, by the way, but you seem cool enough. Call me Courf.”

Courf. Marius felt his heart skip a beat. He could get used to this.

Courfeyrac finally released his grip on Marius long enough to bend down and grab his discarded phone. He smiled down at the screen, having received a text from God knows who. Marius cleared his throat after a moment, and Courfeyrac lifted his eyes to lock them with Marius.

“Why were you filming and yelling at me when I came in, by the way?”

“OH! Well, you see, my friend, have you ever heard of vine?”

“Once, through some 13 year old girl at the bus stop.”

“I have a Vine Account, with around 25,000 people who follow me and watch what I have to post on the daily. Got to create that content, y’know? Catching people off-guard is always hilarious. That, and pissing off Enjolras. THOSE are funny as shit.”

“Enjolras?”

“You’ll meet him later.”

“Oh.”

They fell into a somewhat comfortable silence after that, which gave Marius enough time to unpack his suitcase and get his desk sorted out. The room was small, but somehow big enough for two beds, two (tiny) desks, and a mini fridge in the corner of the room. After what felt like forever, Courfeyrac jumped up off his bed and grabbed his coat, tossing Marius his, all in the blink of an eye. Marius startled slightly, though he caught the jacket anyway.

“Where are you-where are WE going?”

“ABC meeting. You’re coming with me.”

“I am?”

“You are.”

—-

The next thing he knew, they were outside, and Courfeyrac was holding open the door to the on-campus cafe for him. The moment he entered, Marius was met by more yelling, laughter, and the overwhelming smell of masculinity. Actually, he had no idea what the smell was. It was just what he assumed masculinity smelt like.

Courfeyrac shut the door behind them, a wide smirk on his face as he guided Marius to a table, currently occupied by two other men. They both smiled at the sight of them approaching, and rose to greet Courf. The trio exchanged hugs and an awkward thump on the back before they all sat down, and Marius suddenly found himself shaking hands with the pair.

“Marius, This is Combeferre and Grantaire. Ferre is a medical student and R is…” he trailed off, frowning slightly, “R, what are you even doing here?’

The man – Grantaire, apparently – smirked, sipping from a bottle of what Marius assumed was wine.

“I’m an art student, you asshole.”

Marius saw Combeferre roll his eyes, and suddenly there was a gentle hush falling over the crowd.

He lifted his head in time to see a man with curly blond hair stand up on a table, clear his throat and wait for all eyes to be on him. The man wore a red hoodie, with the French flag on it. Really? Talk about devotion to your country. When the room finally fell silent, the leader in red began to speak.

“Thank you all for coming! Not a lot to talk about today-”

“Is there ever?”

“-Shut up, Grantaire. Now, like I said – Courfeyrac, put your phone away! This is a meeting, not Vidcon!”

The entire Cafe began to snicker, and Marius watched as Courfeyrac grinned, posting something – to his vine account, probably – before he shoved his cell phone back into his jacket pocket.

By the time the meeting was over, Marius had a headache. Every thirty seconds or so, someone would interrupt the speaker, and he would start the entire thing over. It was agonizing. Now, after what felt like ages of Marius convincing Courf that he could leave early and Marius would be home eventually, he was sat alone at a table, a now cold cup of coffee held in his hands. He was simply staring at it, until he heard someone sit down across from him.

Oh, God no.

It was the speaker from before, with the curls and the shitty red sweater. Marius tried to smile, but it was not returned. Alright then.

“Courf was telling me you’re his new roommate. Marius, right?”

“He finally got my name right, I see.”

This earned a smile from the other man, and he ran a hand through his curls.

“Courf’ll grow on you.”

“Will he really?”

“Not in the slightest.”

The pair shared a laugh before they shook hands.

“I’m Enjolras.”

Marius momentarily looked like a deer in headlights. He had had an assumption, but this was not the same man Courf had described on their walk over here. This was just some guy who cared way too much about France and had little to no patience.

“You alright, Marius?”

“Fine. I’m fine.”

Enjolras smiled at him, moving to stand as he checked the time on his phone.

“Look, I’ve got to get going. Courf probably already told you, but we’re holding a protest at the mall on Saturday. One of the stores kicked out a guy for being gay, and we’re going to teach them a lesson.”

“That’s the only reason I go to the mall. Protests. My favorite part of the shopping experience.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes slightly.

“You’re welcome to come with us, if you want. You could meet the rest of the L’ABC.”

Marius was nodding before he could stop himself, and he smiled up at his new friend.

“Yeah, I’d love to go with you.”

—-

Unfortunately for Marius, Enjolras had failed to tell him that the protest began at 7am, the moment the mall doors opened. Marius had woken up to Courfeyrac shaking him violently by the shoulders, his phone in his face, yelling at him to wake up. Marius was pretty sure he had hit him again. He’d lost track of how many times he’d had a camera shoved in his face over the last week.

It had happened yet again, when he’d come out of the shower with only a towel around his waist. He had forgotten his shirt, and he opened the bathroom door to see Courf pointing his phone in Marius’ direction, muttering something under his breath. Marius had sprinted across the room, grabbed a shirt, and possibly thrown a pillow at him as he ran back to the privacy that was their bathroom.

Lucky for him, Courfeyrac hadn’t tried to film him since that morning. Now, it was 11am, and they were all sitting outside that weird shoe store. Well, almost all of them were sitting. Enjolras was standing on a bench (the man seemed to like to be taller than he was), waving a pride flag, yelling at passersby who didn’t seem to give a rats ass about what he had to say.

Just as he was yawning, Marius heard a high pitched, female scream, and he heard Courfeyrac sigh gently beside him.

“COURFEYRAC!”

Marius could only watch as Courf began to smile, pushing himself up to his feet. The group of girls, who couldn’t be any older than 16, ran across the room to hug him and ask for him to autograph their arms, or whatever shirt they were wearing. Marius got lost momentarily as he watched Courf, seeing how his smile would light up his face, and the way he moved so smoothly.

He snapped out of it when he heard a girl yelling out his name, too. What the hell? Why were they yelling at him? Suddenly Grantaire was nudging him, and Marius was pushing himself to his feet, crossing the floor to stand beside Courfeyrac.

Courf gave Marius an apologetic smile, to which Marius tried to return, though he had absolutely no idea what was going on. Why did they want to take a picture with him too? He was just some guy. Courf was the famous one out of the two of them.

Marius forced a smile for the photo (which Combeferre reluctantly took), and as everyone began to pull apart, he heard Enjolras yell at them.  
“Courfeyrac! You’re supposed to be protesting!”

A teenage girl gasped, all of the color leaving her face. Marius was oblivious to most things, but he was able to figure out that this kid probably had a crush on Enjolras. Marius could have sworn he saw Grantaire reach up and protectively grab Enjolras’ hand out of the corner of his eye, but Marius wasn’t about to say anything about it.

Just as the girls were about to leave, one of them, with intensely red hair, gasped and turned to look at them.

“Oh! When are you two planning on getting together? Courfius is my OTP!”

Marius didn’t seem to have an answer. People…shipped them? Marius hated the ocean. Looking to Courfeyrac for help with an answer, Marius saw Courf at a loss for words for the first time since he had met the man. Eventually, Courf tried to laugh it off, running his fingers nervously through his hair. Backing up, he began to pull Marius back with him, back towards the protest.

“It was nice meeting you!”

—-

Marius had been living with Courfeyrac for 6 months now, and things had been going well. He had gotten used to having a camera in his face and now, when he saw it being pointed at him, most of the time he would smile, wave, or blow a kiss. Sometimes, if he was in a good mood, he’d strike a pose. Sometimes he just did it because he loved the smile it always earned from Courf.

Marius was lucky enough to be alone in his dorm that night, since Courfeyrac was out with Enjolras, Joly, Jehan, and the rest of them at some sort of political lecture that Enj had dragged them all to. Marius had meant to be working on his paper, but of course he wasn’t. What could he say? He got distracted easily.

Clearly, Enjolras’ lecture wasn’t as exciting as he had made it out to be, because he heard his phone ding across the room. As he made his way over to it and picked it up, he smirked at the sight of who was sending the notification. Combeferre.

-Please send help. C-

-Not having fun? M-

-Courf is silently vining beside me. He just keeps zooming in uncomfortably on the speaker’s face. I’m going crazy, Marius. C-

-That sounds hilarious. Has he posted it yet? M-

-Of course he has. Do you plan on watching it? C-

-Can’t. He never gave me his vine name. M-

-Oh my god. C-

-You’re kidding, right? C-

-Its BarricadeBoy17. You’re in for a treat tonight, Marius. Send me a text when you’re done watching them all. C-

Okay, that was odd. Why was Ferre surprised Marius hadn’t watched them? Shaking the thought from his head, he quickly downloaded Vine onto his phone, created some stupid account he’d never use, and entered Courf’s username. Damn. Up to 55,000 followers. They should have a party or something. That was impressive. As he scrolled down, watching video after video, Marius couldn’t stop himself from smiling. Courf’s vine account was adorable.

He didn’t have to scroll very far before he found one that stared himself, actually. As he tapped it to play, he saw himself smiling at the camera, waving at it. Marius’ smile began to fade as he finally heard what Courfeyrac had been mumbling.

“Look at this cute little fucker. Isn’t he cute? Look at that gorgeous smile. Damn. He’s so fucking perfect, and he’s my roommate. God does exist and he has given me a beautiful gift.”

As Marius kept scrolling, almost all of them were like that. Marius doing something stupid and Mariusie, and Courfeyrac mumbling under his breath about how beautiful and perfect Marius was. Marius was blushing bright red by the time he found one of him asleep at his desk, his head resting on his computer. Ah, right. He had fallen asleep in the middle of writing a paper. A paper he still hadn’t finished, actually. He watched for a moment as nothing happened, and there was only silence. Near the end of the 7 seconds, he heard Courf’s soft voice, as pure and as genuine as he could possibly get it.

“I think I love him.”

Marius came to realize only a few seconds later that he had been holding his breath. He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes wide in shock. Courf loved him? Courf, who could have literally anyone he wanted, wanted Marius? Marius heard his phone ding again, and he looked down to see another text from Combeferre.

-Well? C-

-Oh my god. OH MY GOD, COMBEFERRE. Oh my god. He loves me. M-

-Do yourself a favor and text him. He saw he gained a new follower by the name of Marius and he’s freaking out. I think he’s gonna cry. C-

Marius hesitated for a moment, before tapping on Courfeyrac’s name, entering their chat. He quickly entered the words he wanted to say, but his finger hesitated over the send button. What if it was all an act and Courf didn’t actually want him? Marius could be making a fool of himself. Shaking his head, he took in another deep breath, and hit send.

-Your vine is cute. M-

-Yeah? Not creepy? Fey-

-Not creepy. M-

There was a long pause between the two, before two messages were sent at the same moment.

-I’m sorry. I get if you want to move out of the room. Fey-

-I think I love you too. M-


	13. Swap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Swap around Kurt and Warren's Roles in X-Men Apocalypse. If this does well, I'll do part 2 :3

“The only one who can defeat the Devil…an Engel!”

Warren was momentarily blinded by the light as the tiny box he had been stuffed into opened, and suddenly he was being flung forward into a giant cage. He took a moment to compose himself before he staggered to his feet, eyes widening in complete horror. What the fuck was this supposed to be?

Before he had time to process everything, a blue skinned mutant was wrapping his tail around Warren’s neck. Warren flew as high as he could, but when he hit the wall, an electric shock shot through his entire body. He slammed down against the ground, having to roll onto his side to dodge another one of his opponents attacks.

After a few minutes of this, Warren looked up to see the boy standing on one of the bars up above.

“Fight, or zey kill us both.”

Glancing to the edge of the cage, Warren caught sight of the multiple men holding (and pointing) machine guns at them. Shit. Shit. Okay. They wanted a fight? He’d give them a fight.

As he pushed himself up to his feet, the other mutant teleported to attack him again. Warren somehow managed to dodge, and when he swung around to return the blow, his left wing collided harshly with the others chest, sending him flying back into the electric wall. Watching in horror as the other mutant stood, his tail mangled, bloody, and burnt, Warren could feel the fear beginning to rise in his throat. The other looked terrified for a moment, but the terror soon turned into undeniable anger.

Warren raised his hands, quickly beginning to back away, as the mini devil walked towards him.

“Look, man, it was an accident! I’m sorry – I’m sorry!”

Just as his opponent went to take a swing at him, the power went out. Though it was only for a second, Warren could hear the sound of the electricity shutting down. The other boy seemed to notice too, because suddenly he was teleporting across the cage, ripping open the gate, and teleporting out of the building.

Warren clambered from the cage, and though he was desperately trying to get away, his wings kept getting in the way. Tripping him, tripping others, getting caught. Warren couldn’t get out. As he began to panic, a blonde woman was suddenly grabbing him by the hand and dragging him out the back door, throwing a coat over him to conceal his wings.

Although he was safe, Warren couldn’t help thinking about the other boy who had been in the cage with him. Where was he? Was he okay? He looked younger than Warren by a couple of years, did he have any family to go back to?

Though Warren didn’t know the answer to any of these questions, he was sure he would get answers soon.

That was not the last time The Angel would come face to face with The Devil.


	14. I'm Gonna Kill Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not a fanfic but it low-key is at the same time? Idk. Peter works at a department store and Scott keeps messing everything up.

\- Peter Maximoff who works at some random store and may or may not be assisstant manager (The store totally ISN’T Hot Topic)

\- Peter Maximoff who works at some random store and may or may not be assisstant manager (The store totally ISN’T Hot Topic)

\- The store is Hot Topic

\- He is usually pretty good at keeping his cool when it comes to annoying customers

\- But HOT DAMN

\- This one kid is getting on his nerves

\- He keeps unfolding each shirt, holding it up, then crumpling it up and putting it back on the rack. The kid has done this a solid 12 times now

\- Peter is ACTUALLY going to kill this little fucker in his stupid shitty red sunglasses

\- “Excuse me sir, can you be a little more careful when you’re looking at the shirts?”

\- He has to keep his cool

\- And the kid fucking laughs at him and Peter is DONE

\- “Listen pipsqueak, how would you like it if someone came into your house and fucked up all your shit, yeah? If you don’t fold up that god damn shirt I will shove it down your fucking throat”

\- “That’s not a very polite way to speak to a customer, Anderson Cooper”

\- OHGOD PETER IS GOING TO PUNCH A 17 YEAR OLD

\- “Just because you have sunglasses doesn’t make you cool”

\- “Just because you have an Avengers shirt on doesn’t make you an Avenger”

\- Peter can swear he sees the kid roll his eyes at him under his glasses and Peter’s fist is sUDDENLY CLENCHING UNTIL

\- “How long have you worked here? I’ve never seen you before”

\- “6 ½ years”

\- The kid looks shocked

\- Peter watches as the kid half mumbles something under his breath, then carefully folds up the shirt he’s holding and he puts it back neatly on the rack

\- He eventually picks out a shirt, and suddenly Peter is behind the counter and ringing him through

\- And its reaaaaaal awkward until the kid whistles

\- “My brother is hosting a party tonight”

\- “Exciting”

\- “You should come”

\- Peter’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull as they widened

\- “Give me your phone. I’ll give you the address and the time”

\- Peter hesitantly gives the kid his phone, and after a minute he gets it back

\- “2947 Newport Drive – Ask for Scott ;)”

\- Okay, so the kids name was Scott

\- Peter slowly puts his phone away, then sucks in a breath

\- “Want your receipt?”

\- “No thanks, man. See you tonight!”


	15. French Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jehan and flower crowns.   
> Aka I got lazy and this one is also just in prompts.

\- Jehan has a habit of making flower crowns and they are absolutely beautiful

\- They start off by making one for themselves, and they wear it to a meeting

\- IMMEDIATELY Courfeyrac demands Jehan teach him how to make one

\- So they teach a very enthusiastic Courfeyrac

\- By the time the next meeting rolls around, Courfeyrac comes in with a box, having Jehan at his side

\- Enjolras goes to start the meeting, but Courf stands on a table and clears his throat

\- “LISTEN UP, THIS IS TURNING INTO AN ART CLASS”

\- Suddenly, everyone is being given these plastic flowers and supplies, and Jehan is standing on a table, leading a mini class on how to make flower crowns

\- Enjolras, of course, is having none of this shit

\- Enjolras leaves, but the class continues

\- Marius makes a blue and pink one, which he plans to give to Cosette

\- Courf and Combeferre make matching ones for each other, then they both make one to give to Jehan

\- Even Gavroche joins in

\- He ends up making matching ones for his sisters

\- Grantaire ends up being reaaaaallllyyy good at it

 

\- He makes one for each member of the L’ABC, as well as Eponine and Cosette

\- Grantaire excuses himself from the class early, holding a beautifully crafted flower crown with red, blue, and white flowers, laid out to look like the French flag

\- He steps outside to see Enjolras sitting on a bench, typing furiously into his phone

\- Tbh the boy is probably ranting about this on his tumblr

\- Grantaire smiles as he approaches him, and before Enjolras has time to react, there is a flower crown on his head and Grantaire is kissing his boyfriend’s cheek

\- “Come inside, Apollo. It’s cold out here. We can make matching ones”

\- “...Fine”


	16. Flowers For The Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kurt is good at making flower crowns, but there are two people that don't have one yet. One living, one in the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My hand slipped

Kurt Wagner was good at a lot of things. One of those things just happened to be making flower crowns. He had made one for almost everyone in the school now, and Scott noticed he was the only one who didn’t have one.

Jean had a blue one, so it stood out against her hair and usually always matched the shirt she wore.

Ororo’s was black and grey, which she seemed to love.

Jubilee’s was a mixture of blue and yellow, and Scott wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen the girl take it off. Maybe she slept with the thing on.

Even professor Xavier had one on. It was purple, blue, and red. Dammit, his looked nice. 

Fuck, even that kid with the wings had one! That guy didn’t deserve one. He’d tried to kill Kurt on multiple occasions. What an ass. 

Scott kind of wanted one. Almost every time he saw Scott, Kurt would duck his head and say he’d get back to him about it. Well, that’s what Scott assumed he said. A lot of the time when Kurt mumbles, Scott can barely understand the kid. 

Currently, dinner had just finished. Everyone was leaving the kitchen and the dining room, including Scott, until he felt a hand clasp around his wrist.

“Stay here, ja? I have a surprise for you.” 

This was it. This had to be it. Kurt was going to give him a flower crown. 

When the room had finally cleared out, Kurt gave Scott a wide smile and placed a crown of flowers upon his friends head. Glancing up, Scott noticed that the flowers were bright red, though there seemed to be tiny green vines weaving in and out around the headband. It was pretty, for sure, but Scott knew it wasn’t his taste. He knew someone who would probably like it better. Someone who probably didn’t have a flower crown yet.

Scott quietly excused himself, telling Kurt that he would have to catch up with him later. He quickly made his way outside, despite the fact that the sun was beginning to set, and the purple of the sky was being replaced with blackness. He stopped short in front of a tombstone, and Scott let out a shaky breath as he removed the crown from his head. 

“Kurt gave me this. I...I know you liked red more than I did.” 

Stepping forward, Scott placed the crown atop the tombstone of his Big Brother. Taking a step back, Scott gave one final nod, before he turned on heel and walked back into the mansion. 

\---

Two days passed, and Scott barely saw any of his friends. Whenever he did, they were always working on something, or they would turn their backs to him and tell him they’d talk to him later. They were just being weird, honestly. Scott couldn’t really care less. It was annoying, sure, but meh. He mostly just sat in his room and listened to his radio anyway.

Around 10pm on Wednesday night, there was finally a knock on his door which was followed by a soft german voice.

“Scott! May I enter?”

“Knock yourself out.”

The next thing he knew, Kurt had teleported into the room. Scott let out a yelp of surprise, having to grip the sheets so he wouldn’t fall off of the bed. Catching his breath, he slowly sat up.

“Can I help you with something, Kurt?”

“Come with me. I have another surprise.”

The blue skinned boy held out his hand, and Scott let out a little huff. He pushed himself up off the bed, rolling his eyes underneath his glasses. Why not?

He took Kurt’s hand, and the next thing he knew, they were standing outside the mansion. Scott looked around for a moment, before his eyes landed on Alex’s grave, which was covered completely in beautifully crafted flower crowns. Kurt gave a wide smile, his eyes focusing on it as well.

“After I saw vhat you did vith your first one, I got everyone to make one for him.”

When Scott didn’t answer, Kurt continued.

“I vish he could have been here so ve could give zem to him in person, but zis is ze bezt ve cou-” Kurt never got to finish, because suddenly two arms were being flung around his neck and Scott was pulling his friend into a tight hug, fighting back the tears that stung his eyes. 

After a moment, Kurt began to smile, wrapping his arms around Scott in response.

“Thank you, Kurt.”

“Natürlich, Scott.”


	17. Midnight Visits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony Stark has security cameras installed for a reason.
> 
> Post Civil War.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whhhhooooop ScarletVision

Tony Stark was not a stupid man. Or at least, he liked to think he wasn’t stupid. He liked to think he had a pretty good grip on what was going on. 

He had installed security cameras for a reason. If anything were to happen that he didn’t know about, Tony would now be able to know about it. Like stated previously, Tony Stark was not a stupid man. 

So in the middle of the night, when the alarm on his computer went off to tell him there was someone in the house, he was about to call for his amor.

He was about to call for the armor until he actually checked the feed, just in time to see a tiny, glitchy video of Vision pulling a very tired looking Wanda Maximoff into his arms so he could hold her close. 

The war had...done things to people. Strained relationships. Well, it had done more than strain relationships. It had torn them all apart. Tony knew there was a good chance Clint and Nat hadn’t been in contact since the airport, even if he knew that Steve had broken Clint and the others out of the Raft. God only knows where Bruce is. Rhodes had been paralyzed. He had nearly killed Barnes. Nearly slaughtered Steve. Steve had nearly killed him. A lot of people could have died, yet everyone somehow came out of it alive. 

Tony let out a shaky breath, running a hand over his face. He was an asshole, sure, but was he THAT much of a dick that he would go down there and tell Wanda she needed to leave? He couldn’t do that. Not after the way he saw Vision missing her. 

He’d known Vision had some sort of a thing for Wanda Maximoff. She had managed to distract him, she had spent so much time with him, and then the war had ripped her away without any warning. Vision seemed sad, even though Tony knew Androids weren’t supposed to feel...well...anything. 

Wanda had changed something about him. Wanda had made Vision more human, and without her...Vision seemed lost. 

Tony could only watch the screen for a moment. He saw Vision pull away enough so he could press a gentle kiss to Wanda’s forehead. He saw the tiny smile that Wanda gave him in return, before they began to softly speak to each other. Tony turned the volume off. 

It was rude to be watching them in the first place. It was a dick move to listen in on their conversation. 

After what felt like ages, Tony shut the computer and went back to bed.

\---

The next morning, Tony came downstairs to find Vision sitting at the table, reading a newspaper. Why did they still get the newspaper? The moment Vision saw him, he gave Tony a wide smile.

“Good morning, Mister Sta-”

“How long did she stay for?”

Vision’s smile seemed to fade, and for a moment, the man looked panicked. 

“Pardon me?”

“Wanda. She stopped by last night, yeah? What time did she leave? I didn’t hear the door open.”

Vision stuttered as he tried to come up with some sort of response. Tony simply rolled his eyes, grabbing a bagel out of the fridge, and he poured himself a cup of coffee.

“Look, Vis. I don’t care if she keeps coming by, just...use protection, 'kay?” 

With that Tony left the room with a smirk on his face, leaving a very embarrassed Vision on his own.


	18. The Ghost On My Bed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon gets a visit from a familiar spirit during a time when he needs it most.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spooky ghost is spooky

Theon didn’t mind sailing, honestly. The only problem with sailing is that he had trouble falling asleep. There he was, laying in his tiny bed in his cabin, staring at the ceiling as he tried to sleep. He was sailing back to Westeros, along with his sister, Tyrion Lannister, and The Mother of Dragons, so they could go take back Kings Landing and the Iron Throne. 

Theon was actually nervous about going back there. Going home. Westeros didn’t feel like home anymore. Not since Ramsay Bolton.

He let out a soft huff, shutting his eyes. Ramsay had taken everything from him, and then some. Maybe part of him deserved it, though. After everything he had said and after everything he had done, Theon couldn’t help but feel like that had been his punishment. 

Sansa Stark, however, did NOT deserve what she had gotten. She was just a girl. She was Robb’s little sister. His Robb. His beautiful, young Robb who got taken too soon. Theon hadn’t even been there to defend him. He hadn’t gotten a chance to say goodbye. Letting out a shaky breath, Theon forced himself to sit up. 

“What the fuck is wrong with me?”

Theon nearly screamed when he heard someone respond.

“Nothing is wrong with you, Theon.”

Theon opened his eyes to see Robb Stark sitting on the edge of his bed, smiling sadly at him. 

Robb. His Robb. His beautiful, sweet, loving Robb. Theon took a moment to clear his thoughts, a familiar lump forming in the back of his throat.

“Robb? You’re...you’re alive?”

Robb gave a shaky chuckle in response.

“Not in the slightest, unfortunately. I only have a few minutes before you’ll stop seeing me.”

Robb let his hand rest on top of Theon’s, and though he had said he wasn’t alive, Robb was warm. Robb’s touch was gentle and kind, far different from the touch he had become accustomed to. Robb wasn’t Ramsay. Robb was better than Ramsay.

“I want you to know that you’re doing so well, Theon. So so well.”

“And how would you classify this as ‘doing well’?”

“You found Sansa. Escaped. Redeemed yourself. You’re on your way to fight the largest war in Westeros. That’s what I classify as Doing Well, Theon.”

Theon couldn’t help but smile when he felt Robb squeeze his hand. 

“If this is a dream, I never want to wake up.”

Theon’s heart fluttered as he saw Robb smile, and suddenly Robb’s lips were on his and Theon’s eyes were shutting and he felt like he might pass out. The moment Robb pulled away, Theon couldn’t help but frown.

“Does that feel like you’re dreaming?”

Theon didn’t have the courage to answer. All he could do was smile, as Robb’s hand moved to rest over Theon’s heart, upon his chest.

“I need you to know, Theon, that whatever happens, I am by your side. I am always by your side, ready to follow you into any battle you enter. Now and forever.”

“Why can’t you stay then?” Theon found himself whispering, leaning forward. He had to be closer to Robb. He had to be. 

Robb’s smile faded, and he momentarily looked sad. 

“I’m not alone over here anymore. Mum and I have someone to look after, and-”

“Robb? Mum’s waiting!”

Theon turned his head towards the door of the cabin, but it remained closed. No one else was with them. Robb let out a tired sigh, nodding.

“I’m almost done!” He called back as he rose off the bed and onto his feet. Theon’s breath caught in his throat, and he had to fight back the tears as they sprung to his eyes. 

“Who do you have to look over?”

“Rickon.”

Theon’s eyes immediately widened. Rickon was dead? What was Sansa going to do when she found out? Did she already know? Running a hand over his head, Theon could only respond by nodding. 

“Robb?”

“Hmm?”

“Will I ever see you again? Like-Like this?”

Robb smiled sadly.

“Possibly. If you desperately need me. Theon?”

“Yes.”

“I love you.”

In the time it took for Theon to blink, Robb seemed to have disappeared. He was gone, and Theon was alone in his room again. Ramsay Bolton was gone, but Robb Stark was still with him. He would always be with him.

Letting a single tear fall down his cheek, Theon lay back down in his bed.

“I love you too, Robb.”


	19. Metal Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erik made Charles a metal rose years and years ago, and Charles desperately held onto what was left of what used to be.

Erik had made him the rose their first night in the mansion. They had been awake late, and Charles had mentioned how he hated not having some bit of Erik in his room (he may have been a bit drunk at the time, but Erik didn’t seem to mind in the slightest). 

Erik had laughed, but Charles was pouting. He had been serious. 

After a moment, Erik had turned the silverware from their meal into this lifelike metal rose, and had presented it to Charles.

“Now, you will have a piece of me beside you, even when I am not there.”

Erik had never seen Charles smile wider than he had on that day. 

After Cuba, the rose was all Charles had left of Erik. Of what used to be. Charles had woken up in the hospital, with the metal rose at his bedside. He had a feeling Hank had brought it for him. The moment he caught sight of it, Charles couldn’t help the shaky sob that escaped his throat, and he didn’t mind the tears that began to roll down his face.

\---

In the years that he was alone in his mansion, with Hank as his only company, Charles found himself holding the flower more and more. It became like a comfort blanket, he almost always had it on his person. Even if he just had it in his pocket, he always had it. He always had a piece of Erik.

When everything was said and done in DC, Charles was back in his wheelchair. Erik was gone again. Charles wasn’t as sad this time, though. He had seen Erik. Spent time with him. He had gotten answers. For a while, he hadn’t needed the rose. He had hoped everything would go back to the way it had been before, but no. 

Things could never go back to the way they were before.

The night after everything, Charles found himself in his bed, unable to sleep. Turning onto his side, Charles couldn’t help but catch sight of the metal rose resting on his bedside table. Pushing away the tears, he reached forward and grabbed ahold of it, before he held it to his chest. 

Within minutes, the telepath was asleep.

\---

Ten years passed. Charles opened the school. Became happier. More lively. Found his reason to wake up in the morning. He still had the rose, though.

Well, he did, until his school blew up. He had learned when they had gotten back that everything inside had been destroyed, including his rose. It was alright, though. Everything would be alright now.

All because Erik had come back with him. 

Erik was here, Erik was here and he was his and maybe, just maybe, things could go back to the way they used to be all those years ago. 

Charles had been so ready to make everything alright again, until Erik told him he planned to leave after the reconstruction of the school. Charles felt his heart break on the spot. 

The school didn’t take long to rebuild. With both Erik and Jean helping, the construction process had actually gone fairly quickly. Everyone was moving back in before 7pm that very same day. Although Charles was happy to see all the children safe and sound, he knew this meant that Erik would leave soon. 

They were standing – well, Charles was sitting – outside of the danger room, watching Raven give a speech to the new X-Men. The pair was standing – again, Charles was sitting – in silence, before Erik suddenly let out a quiet laugh.

“Do you remember the rose?”

Charles’ breath caught in his throat.

“The rose?”

“The rose I made you all those years ago. What happened to it?”

“Oh. It...um...it was destroyed in the explosion.”

“You kept it all this time?”

“Of course I did. It was a piece of you.”

Not long after, Erik left the mansion. 

However, he hadn’t been gone for good. When Charles woke up the next morning, there was a newly crafted metal rose on his bedside table, with a note attached to it.

-It may not have the same meaning as the original, but perhaps we can create new memories together with this one.-

Charles let out a shaky laugh, not trying to stop the tears that spilled from his eyes.


	20. My Heart Still Beats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles gets sick and Erik flips his shit

“For the last time, Erik. I am NOT dying!”

“I’m not taking the risk, Charles. A cold could turn into something worse, and I am not going to let that happen. Now, don’t get out of bed. I’m going to make you some more soup.”

“Erik, I’ve already had 4 bowls and it’s only noon!” 

Erik didn’t respond, and before Charles could call after him again, Erik was gone. Back into the kitchen, waving his hand so that the pot floated over to the sink and filled with water. 

Lucky for him, cooking came easily. All he had to do was stand there and wave a hand every now and then. He would do this all day if that’s what it took. 

He had already lost his wife. Nina. His little girl. His entire life, in the blink of an eye. Erik knew what some colds could turn into. He wasn’t about to risk losing Charles. Sure, maybe overall, Erik was being overdramatic. He didn’t care. Charles was all he had left. He wasn’t going to let anything hurt him.

After the mansion had been repaired, Erik had been faced with a difficult decision. Well, it had been difficult at the time. Now it was the only option. He had been living at the mansion for a little over three months now, and though some of the students still looked at him with fear, he was finally beginning to feel at home. Everything was running smoothly.

Well, it was running smoothly until Charles had started sneezing, coughing, and had gotten a scratchy throat. 

Then it had gone to hell.

Erik had put the telepath on bedrest IMMEDIATELY, and Charles’s diet recently had consisted of soup, saltine crackers, water, bread, and tea. Charles had managed to keep everything down, but Erik had insisted on keeping a bucket beside his boyfriends bed. Just incase. Erik was even trying to take over some of Charles’s classes to take the stress off of his shoulders, but most of it was him tripping over his own words, as Erik actually had no idea how to teach. He had never exactly been good at it. 

As the soup poured itself into a bowl, Erik let it float alongside him as he made his way back to Charles’s room.   
However, when he saw Charles sitting on the edge of the bed, writing in his notebook, he momentarily lost control and the bowl of soup slammed into the ground, causing Charles to give a yelp, his eyes widening.

“Erik, what in Gods na-”

“What are you doing?! You need to be resting!”

“Erik, I am fine! Will you stop it? It’s just a cold!”

Something in Erik seemed to snap, and Charles noticed his boyfriend’s fists clench dangerously at his sides.

“It may be a cold now, but what happens if it gets worse? What happens when suddenly you can’t breathe, you can’t stop coughing, and suddenly you’re too sick for Hank to be able to help? Too sick for the hospital doctors to be able to do anything, hmm?”

“Erik, I-”

“I don’t care if it’s just a fucking cold right now, Charles. I am not going to lose you like I lost them!”

By now Erik was yelling, and tears were threatening to spill down his cheeks. Charles let out a soft sigh, extending his hand towards Erik, which Erik quickly took. Charles pulled him over, and as soon as he was close enough, he pressed Erik’s hand against his own chest.

“Do you feel that, Erik?”

“Your heart?”

“Yes. What is it doing?”

“Beating?”

“Exactly. It is still beating. It is going to keep beating for a very, very long time. You don’t have to worry about losing me, darling, because I am not going anywhere.”

Leaning up the best he could, Charles pressed his lips to Erik’s forehead. 

“Promise me, Charles.”

“I promise you, Erik.”


	21. Picture Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint loves to get recognized in public. Natasha, on the other hand, HATES it.

\- Clint ADORES being recognized

\- Natasha not so much

\- Clint loves stopping with people for photos, he loves giving autographs

\- Nat thinks he just loves the attention

\- Natasha hates the idea of people looking up to her

\- She has murdered innocent people, she has caused so many people pain

\- Why would someone want to look up to a cold hearted killer?

\- Clint had tried to tell her that people liked her because she was one of the first female superheroes New York had seen in a very long time, but Natasha had snorted at him, stating very firmly that just because she was doing her job, did not mean she was a superhero

\- Clint and Natasha try to make time for date night every Thursday, but most of the time work gets away

\- When they do actually get time to themselves, they can’t help but cherish it

\- One night, Clint decides to take Nat to the park for a nice picnic

\- Within half an hour, people have started to come up to them

\- Clint had welcomed them, but whenever someone would try to ask Natasha for a picture or an autograph, she would give them a smile and decline as politely as she possibly could

\- After a while, the crowd had died down and they were able to get back to their date

\- Well, until Natasha felt a tiny hand tugging at her sleeve

\- She turned her head to see this little girl with flaming red hair staring up at her, her eyes wide in complete shock

\- “Are you the Black Widow?”

\- Natasha didn’t have the heart to turn her away, and all she could do was force a smile

\- “Yes I am, beautiful. What’s your name?”

\- “Layna! Will you sign my picture?”

\- The little girl handed Natasha a picture, and Nat couldn’t help but smile

\- The girl had given her a hand drawn picture of Nat fighting against the aliens, and against the Ultronbots. She had clearly been watching the news, because these drawings were really close to what both the aliens and the bots looked like

\- Natasha couldn’t stop smiling when she noticed that in the picture, Layna seemed to be fighting along beside her

\- Taking the crayon that Layna handed her, she very neatly signed the corner, adding

\- “Thanks for the help, Layna! You saved the day!”

\- As she handed it back, Nat found herself being hugged by a little pair of arms

\- After Clint and Natasha were left alone again, Nat finally noticed how widely Clint was smiling, and she found herself smiling, too

\- After that, whenever someone was to come up for a picture or an autograph, Natasha would smile, and politely agree


	22. Matching Bullet Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For a guy who moves as fast as I do, I always seem to be too late."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: If Pietro is dead in MCU, What if Wanda is dead in the XMCU?

Peter Maximoff partially prided himself on being fast. Faster than everyone else. In the blink of an eye, the kid could do pretty much anything.

Hell, Peter had saved people. He had even saved the entire student body at Xavier’s school. People had thanked him, had called him a hero, and one girl even asked for an autograph. Peter had simply smiled and nodded, but sometimes, even the fastest man alive wasn’t fast enough.

When people can do the things that you can, sometimes, people get hurt because of you. Your powers don’t always come as a gift.

It had been a couple of months since the school had been rebuilt. His cast had recently been removed, and Peter was getting back into the swing of things. He was able to run again, fast and free around the grounds. Running always made things seem easier. Then again, Peter was more or less the king of running away from his problems. Literally.

It was Sunday morning, and everyone had the day off. No classes, just time to relax. Peter was grateful, honestly. The boy had been working his ass off to try and get good marks, finally make something of himself.

Peter was sitting at the edge of the lake alongside Jean, Scott, Ororo, and Kurt. Finally, people other than adults that he could actually call friends. Companions. They wanted what was best for him, and he wanted what was best for them. Hell, Peter Maximoff would lay down his life for these people if it meant they could go on living another day.

He had the bottom of his pants rolled up all the way to his knees, and his shoes/socks had been discarded a while ago so he could dip his feet into the water. Jean and Ororo had done the same, but Jean had been more hesitant. She seemed to believe someone would push her in if she got too close. Honestly, she was smart to be on her toes. Peter would probably do it as a joke if he got the chance.

When Peter turned to look at Jean, however, he noticed she seemed to be staring at him with a frown on her face. Shit, did he have dirt on his nose? Jean gave a small shake of her head, as if she had heard-

‘I’m a telepath, and you’re practically yelling at me’

“Oh.” Was all Peter could say, though he said it out-loud. The rest of the group looked over in confusion, though Jean’s next statement made Peter’s blood run cold.

“Who was she?”

Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Stay out of my head.” He snapped before he could stop himself, and before Jean had a chance to say anything in response, Peter was gone.

—

He finally came to a stop when he got to his room. No. No. He shouldn’t be freaking out. That was a long time ago. She had been gone for a long time. He didn’t deserve to be freaking out, not when-

Peter’s body tensed when he heard a knock on the door, and a familiar German voice from out in the hallway.

“Peter? May ve talk?”

“Yeah, come in.”

No. NO. Peter didn’t want to talk. He wanted to hide. He needed to get away. He needed to-

Suddenly, the door was open and Kurt was letting himself in. Slowly lowering himself onto the bed, Peter did all he could to not look at the other mutant. He couldn’t. Not now. Not when his hands were shaking and he felt like his throat was closing up and especially not when he could feel his eyes stinging.

“What…what do you wanna talk about, Blue Boy?”

“Vhat did Jean mean?”

“What do you mean?”

“’Who vas she?’ Vhat does that mean?”

Peter let out a shaky sigh, hanging his head in defeat. Every shrink his mother had forced him to told him that talking about your problems is supposed to help. Maybe…maybe this would help.

“Do you really wanna know?”

Peter felt the bed sink as Kurt sat down beside him.

“Of course I vant to know, Peter.”

~~~

They were 17, and Peter Maximoff was walking home from track practice. His twin sister, Wanda, was walking beside him with a smile. Peter took notice of the red jacket she wore, and how it used to belong to their mother. Wanda had been so excited when her mother had given it to her. Peter couldn’t remember a time he’d seen her without it since she had received it. Wanda was beautiful. Big, brown eyes, always bright and full of joy. She had chocolate brown hair that was almost always tied back into a ponytail, and Wanda Maximoff was surely Gods gift to the world. She was going off about something that she had overheard at lunch, and Peter was listening intently, nodding along, the smile never leaving his face.

They had both been 11 when their powers came in. Peter had mastered his immediately. Wanda, on the other hand, hers were…harder to control. She was known to have little outbursts when she got angry, or scared, but Peter had always been at her side. He could calm her down. The twins were inseparable. The best of friends.

“…and then, Mary said we could come to her brothers party next week. She’d even be willing to set you up with Alice! Remember, the girl from your chemistry class?”

“Alice? Like, Alice Meadows?”

“The very same.”

“Not really my type, if I’m being brutally honest.”  
Wanda let out a laugh, stopping in her tracks to look down a darkened alley.

“Do you think that would be a shortcut?”

Peter stopped as well, looking down the alleyway. He didn’t trust this. There was a sinking feeling in his stomach, but his words betrayed him.

“Maybe.”

“We’re already late for dinner. Come on, we’ll get home faster.”

The next thing he knew Wanda was walking down the alley, and Peter was rushing after her. This wasn’t a good idea. Peter knew this wasn’t a good idea, but if anything were to happen…Peter knew he’d be able to stop it.

They only got halfway down the alley before the pair heard footsteps behind them. Wanda had tugged on her brothers sleeve, trying to get him to walk faster, but Peter knew that they would only be followed. Just as he turned around, he felt a baseball bat collide with his skull, and the last thing he heard was Wanda scream his name as everything went dark.

When he finally willed his eyes to open, Peter realized he was on the ground. His head was pounding, and it took him a minute for his vision to focus, but when it did, he noticed he wasn’t alone on the ground. There were three other men there, dead, faces frozen in fear. Peter went to scream, but when he saw Wanda, down by the end of the alley, no sound came out. There were policemen surrounding her, and Peter could see the red of Wanda’s magic radiating off of her. She was having a breakdown. He needed to get to her. He needed to save her.

Though he tried to push himself up, he didn’t have the strength. He couldn’t stand without his head spinning.

He had to get to her. She was starting to panic.

“Please…W-Wanda…”

She was trembling. Peter could hear her sobbing out his name. He had to get there.

“D…Don’t…”

The officers were radioing for backup. A few were pointing guns. Loaded guns.

Peter tried to stand. The ground pulled him back down.

“N-no…Wanda…”  
Wanda opened her mouth, letting out a horrified scream.

Red magic was suddenly pushing the officers back, slamming them into the alley walls. He had to get to her. He could stop this.

A single gunshot rang out.

All the magic stopped in a single second.

Everything Peter saw seemed to move in slow motion. 

Her body jolted, the bullet slamming into her forehead, and suddenly her legs were giving out. 

As Wanda fell down against the concrete, Peter felt himself fall back down with her.

No.

NO.

He finally found his voice, and he found it enough to scream.

And oh, did Peter screamed.

He screamed as he watched her fall.

He screamed as the officers came over to drag him to his feet.

He screamed as they shoved him in the back of their car.

Peter was sure that he would never stop screamed.

They had taken his light from him, his bit of magic in the world.

Peter would scream and cry and yell until they stuck a bullet into his head. One to match his sisters. 

The bullet for him never came. 

~~~

As he stopped speaking, Peter heard Kurt sniff slightly behind him. He looked to the mutant moments later to see him wiping tears from his eyes, and Peter couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt.

It took a short while for Kurt to compose himself, but when he did, he spoke in the calmest voice he could possibly make.

“She did not deserve zat, Peter.”

“No. She didn’t.”

“It is not your fault.”

“I could have stopped her from taking us that way. I could have done something to prevent it. I just…let her die. She was scared, and I let her die.”

Peter felt Kurt grab his hand, and the speedster gripped it back as tightly as he possibly could.

“Though it may not mean much…vherever she is now, Peter…I know in my heart that she is proud of you.”

Peter had to squeeze his eyes shut to keep the tears at bay, and suddenly he was being hugged by the mutant beside him.

There was a comfortable silence for a while, before Peter gave up. He let the tears fall, and his friend didn’t seem to mind.

“Kurt?”

“Yes, Peter.”

“She would have loved you.”

“I think I vould have loved her too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may have listened to Hey Brother and Say Something when writing this. Also may have shed a tear or two. Sorry not sorry.


	23. Rewritten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takes place during the original X-Men Days Of Future Past, in the original timeline. Erik gets to meet the extraordinary Maximoff twins, only to have them ripped away.

Erik had come back to help when he’d heard about them.

The Sentinels, or so they were called. 

Most of their the mutants had already been wiped out. 

He remembered the way Nightcrawler and Angel had died hand in hand, as Nightcrawler said a silent prayer for their souls. Angel was watching him closely as the blast hit. They hadn’t even had time to go back for the bodies. There would be no funeral for the fallen. 

They hadn’t been the first to go. The list goes on and on. There was fewer and fewer mutants every day.

There was a small group left. Charles had insisted that they pick up as many mutants as they possibly could when they had gone on the run, and along the way, they had picked up Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch. Peter and Wanda. They were twins, both with extraordinary powers. 

They were always smiling, Peter usually trying to crack a joke to make the others smile. Wanda was less cheery, but whenever someone was crying, or close to losing hope, she would use her magic to show them their best memory. Show them what and who they were fighting for. Erik was grateful for them, really. They always knew how to boost everyone’s spirits. 

There was something sad about them, though. Whenever Erik would look at Wanda, she was almost always staring at him. She would be frowning, but whenever their eyes would meet, she would force a smile before looking away. She knew something Erik didn’t. 

Erik had had enough.

One evening, before a fight, he stopped Wanda by grabbing her arm. Wanda had grabbed Peter in the same moment, and Erik cleared his throat.

“What are you hiding?”

The girl gave him a sad smile, shaking her head.

“It would kill you to know now. Some things are better left unsaid.”

Erik had to fight back the rage pooling in his gut.

“I want to know.”

Peter let out a shaky laugh.

“I’ll tell you what, Magnet man. If we make it through this next fight, we’ll tell you.”

Erik gave a tense, sharp nod. Wanda momentarily touched his cheek, before Peter was pulling them both outside to meet up with the rest of the group.

The fight was messy. Almost everyone had been separated, and the ones who hadn’t been were hurt. 

Peter could barely stand. Wanda had blood trickling down the side of her head, and she was starting to lose focus. Erik’s defenses were beginning to drop. They were losing.

The only reason they were still alive was because Wanda was using any power she had left to create a shield around them. They had a chance to get away.

Well, they had a chance for a moment. Wanda suddenly staggered, and the shield dropped. 

In the time it took Erik to draw in a breath, he noticed a Sentinel rising up from behind her. No. Not Wanda. She was their only chance.

Peter seemed to notice, too, because in an instant he was running forward best he could. He wasn’t fast, and Erik knew from the look on the boys face that he knew he couldn’t get them out of there.

Erik could only watch in horror as Peter grabbed ahold of his sister, pulling her against his chest. If he couldn’t get them out, he would block as much of the blast as he could. 

The moment the blast hit them, they were falling to the ground. It had gone through Peter on one side, and out of Wanda through the other. There was no saving them now. 

The next thing he knew, Erik was being grabbed and teleported into a cave. They were gone. Peter and Wanda were dead.

Erik would never know what they had been hiding from him. He would never learn their secret, but Erik had a sinking suspicion, as he had left a piece of himself back their with them.

A part of Erik Lehnsherr had died alongside the children he would never truly know he had.


	24. God's Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're handing out brochures and I could honestly care less about the topic but I want to run my fingers through your hair so I guess I can fake interest."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;)

20 minutes. Grantaire was 20 minutes late for class. Not just any class, by the way. His favorite class. As much as he disliked his University, his art class made it bearable. He was able to paint, sketch, and do pretty much anything he wanted to. It was his way of getting his feelings out, without having to vocally share them with another human being. When he would start to open up to people, they would get bored with him. It easier to keep his mouth shut. It hurt less.

Grantaire was basically sprinting at this point. His hair was still damp from his shower, and he was pretty sure that his shirt was on backwards, but he didn’t have time to stop and fix it. He was practically dragging his half open bag along behind him, all whilst trying to tie his shoe at the same time. There was no way he could stop to fix it all. Besides, if he tried to stop, he’d be awkwardly flailing in the middle of the courtyard. Not worth it.

Just as he was rounding the corner, all he saw was a flash of red before he was basically body slamming into someone’s back. Grantaire tripped forward, half face planting on the concrete as he tried to catch himself. He watched in horror as hundreds of brochures fell from the hands of the man he’d tripped into float onto the ground, and he heard the man huff in frustration. Great. This was going great. 

Pushing himself to his knees, Grantaire began to pick up the brochures as fast as he possibly could. He saw the headline, something stupid about one of the security guards and how they didn’t respect the University guidelines, but Grantaire could honestly care less. He needed to get to class. He needed to get to his safe place.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“Clearly.”

Grantaire momentarily paused. An angel must clearly be speaking to him, because that was the most beautiful clearly he was sure he had ever actually heard. Lifting his head, he had to swallow the lump in his throat as his eyes locked on the man. Sparkling blue eyes, a perfect complexion, and the red button up shirt he was wearing was just open enough that he could see the edge of his collar bone. He had the University lanyard hanging around his neck, and Grantaire faintly noticed the look of annoyance on his face, but when his eyes drifted up to the man’s head...God clearly must exist, because he had sent an Angel down from Heaven. He had sent a God to bump into Grantaire. God had sent him the true, living version of Apollo.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

Grantaire snapped out of his thoughts when he saw the mans hand waving in front of his face. Right. Brochures. Art class. Quickly picking up a few, he finally stood up and placed them back into the hands of the other. He could have sworn he was going to faint when their hands brushed together. Grantaire wasn’t aware that anyone so soft could even exist. 

He needed to hear that voice again. That beautiful, amazing, gorgeous voice. He was speaking before he could stop himself.

“So, this is about Mr. Javert?”

The way Apollo’s face lit up made Grantaire melt inside. 

“Yes! Mr. Javert has no respect for anyone’s personal boundaries. Take Professor ValJean, for example. I have lost track of how many instances I have heard of Javert bursting into the lecture hall in the middle of a lesson, and he harasses the students!”

The man went off on this long speech about why Javert needed to be replaced, and how if Grantaire wanted to visit the website on the brochure, he could sign a petition to get him fired, but Grantaire was distracted. He had tuned out towards the end of the speech, focusing mostly on Apollo’s hair. God, it looked like the softest, gentlest thing he had ever seen. Every inch of him urged his arm to just reach forward and just touch it, but he couldn’t. Petting a complete stranger that you may or may not be in love with is not a good way to say hello.

“Do you have any other questions?”

Shit.

“Pardon?”

“About anything I mentioned. I know it was a lot to take in. Do you have any questions?”

“Oh...uh, no. Not right now, but I’m sure I will. Is there any way I can contact you if I come up with any?”

The man looked Grantaire up and down, then grabbed another brochure from the pile. He pulled a red pen out of his back pocket and quickly scribbled something down on it, before he handed it to Grantaire.

“My cell phone number. Call or text anytime. I’d be happy to help. Javert needs to be fired.”

“Of course he does.”

Grantaire gave Apollo a wide smile, before he shook those soft hands.

“I’ll be sure to come up with a list of questions. The more time to talk the better, you know?”

As he moved passed him to leave, he could have sworn he saw Apollo turn as red as his shirt.

“What’s your name?”

“Call me R!”

Apollo smiled as he nodded, then seemed to approach a blonde girl who had been kissing another man who seemed to have given up passing out the brochures. 

Glancing down at the brochure Apollo had given him, he saw his phone number written nice and neatly in the upper right corner. There was something below it, too. A name.

Enjolras.

Grantaire ended up being late to his first ever art class, but he honestly didn’t mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PROMPTS ARE OPEN AGAIN FAM COME HMU SEND ME TUMBLR PROMPTS

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is http://subject-to-feels.tumblr.com btw!


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